Read Origin of the Body Online
Authors: H.R. Moore
Origin of the Body
ORIGIN OF THE BODY
By HR Moore
For Atia.
The light streamed in through a series of cracks in the ceiling, finding their way in slivers, the dust in the air floating across the shafts. She could hear people walking above, the floorboards creaking, muffled footsteps, muted voices. Every now and again a small piece of straw would find its way through the gaps and float down to the unforgiving concrete floor below, occasionally a piece hitting Anita where she lay on a makeshift bed of blankets. She watched the light, listened to the noises and wiled away the time wondering just why it was she was here.
Helena, her old mentor and friend hadn’t lingered for long the previous evening, not once Anita had made it clear she wouldn’t be answering any of Helena’s questions until Helena had answered some of her own. She’d stayed just long enough to let Anita and Alexander know they would be split up for the night and that in the morning all their questions would be answered. They had been separated by enough distance to mean Anita couldn’t feel Alexander’s energy, so she’d spent the time wide eyed, staring up at the ceiling, the words, ‘let’s have a little chat about that cylinder in your head,’ careering around, along with endless unanswered questions. How did Helena know about the brass cylinder? What did she want from them? Was she cross because Anita failed to bring Helena the information she’d asked for? Why had Alexander been taken too? Did anyone yet realise they were gone? It was one thing for someone like Anita to go missing, but if the Spirit Descendent were to suddenly disappear off the face of the planet, surely it must raise some kind of alarm?
At last, the monotonous background noise was superseded by the ringing of crisp footsteps on the concrete floor outside her makeshift prison cell. They stopped as they came level with the door and Anita heard the loud jangling of metal, the scraping of a key fitting the lock, the door and key being pushed, pulled, and wiggled, and the under the breath curses of the now clearly irritated person trying to gain entry, until a dull clunk resulted and the old, fragile door swung inwards. Anita stayed where she was, on her back, on the floor, turning only her head to see who was there.
Her eyes took in the nondescript, middle aged man dressed all in black with floppy brown hair who was now gingerly entering the room. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness and then said in a perfect Councillor-eqsue accent, ‘Good morning Anita. I do hope you slept well?’ and then, before pausing for an answer, ‘would you please come with me.’
Knowing full well she had no choice in the matter, and anyway, going to see why she was here was far more entertaining a prospect than remaining in a cell all day, she got to her feet, dusted off the stray bits of straw and said, ‘lead the way.’
They walked in silence to the end of a dark corridor, the smell of stale straw wafting around them, until they reached a wooden wall blocking the way. The man rapped curtly on the wall and a hatch in the ceiling was immediately and efficiently pulled aside, a ladder with wooden rungs lowered. A further man in black appeared at the top, this one younger, with cropped blond hair and blotchy skin. Her guard indicated Anita should ascend first; the ladder had seen better days but she climbed nimbly to the top and out into the rickety wooden barn above. The barn’s large doors had been thrown open to reveal an impressive farmhouse beyond and a feeling of dread filled her as she realised she had been here before, the image of a pigeon flashing before her eyes. Adrenaline filled her veins as the implications hit her like a freight train; the world around her seemed to blur as they worked their way through her thoughts and she hardly noticed as a new man, this one burley and bearded, took her arm and steered her out into the sunlight.
They walked around the house, through an archway covered with climbing white roses and into a beautiful cottage garden that would rival even Cordelia’s. To the left stretched a lawn that meandered through the middle of a series of flower beds, the grass running down to a fence at the bottom that the plants on the way mostly obstructed from view. To the right, a pergola extended out from the side of the old farmhouse, this too covered with climbing plants, and underneath sat a number of people, some lounging on sofas, others sat casually on wooden benches, eating breakfast at a rustic dining table, Alexander and Helena included. Alexander’s back was to Anita, but he felt her energy approaching before he heard or saw her, sending a silent, reassuring nudge to the edge of her energy field. Helena was seated on the opposite side of the table, so he waited for her to spot Anita’s arrival before publically reacting to her presence.
‘Good morning Anita,’ said Helena warmly, as Anita and her guard approached the table, ‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Not a wink. But thanks for your concern,’ Anita replied sarcastically. ‘I’m very much looking forward to your explanation of what exactly it is we’re doing here though, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble?’ Anita appeared conversational, yet her tone conveyed a certain contempt and the subtlety wasn’t lost on her captor. Anita placed herself at the table next to Alexander, brushing his arm as she sat down, the familiar tingles having a calming effect as she helped herself to a croissant and orange juice without waiting for an invitation.
Helena wasn’t riled, she’d have been disappointed if Anita put up no fight at all. ‘Yes, of course. But I’d like to start by apologising for the way we secured your company; it was the only way we could be sure to get you both here without any witnesses and without a long persuasion process. I’m genuinely sorry, but I’m afraid we’re running short on time, so it really was deemed necessary.’
‘Like stealing your memory back from Austin was deemed necessary?’
Helena looked down into her breakfast for a moment before meeting Anita’s eyes. ‘Yes, a little bit like that. The reason I asked you to do that was because the memory is of something I’m deeply ashamed of and Austin will use it against us if he’s given half a chance. Why do you think he hid it so well?’
‘I don’t know Helena, but I’d also like you to explain why it is we’re currently in the location Austin chose for the end of the Chase? If you and he are on such separate sides, why here?’
That one was easy to answer. Helena was glad Anita had just given her an opportunity to gain at least a little trust. ‘Austin knows about the Institution. He also, rightly, suspects that the man who owns this farm is one of our members. Austin used the Chase as an opportunity to intimidate us, to let us know that he knows where and who our members are. Naturally we didn’t know what he was planning, Amber’s too careful for that, so as you two were reaching for the scroll, huddled just inches away beneath the floor were a number of prominent members of the Institution, a lot of whom were supposedly in Kingdom at the time of the Chase. This has been one of our informal bases for a number of years, in fact, your parents and I used to hang out here when we were your age.’
Anita’s energy turned hostile at the mention of her parents, the parents who everyone had pretty much ignored the existence of her entire life, the parents who Helena had been such great friends with but had never once thought to mention, the parents she wasn’t totally certain she wanted to know about any longer. ‘Ah yes, the old parent carrot,’ said Anita casually, reaching for some homemade yoghurt (they hadn’t been given dinner and she was hungry). Helena waited for her to continue, but she didn’t give them the satisfaction, instead she poured herself some tea and tucked in.
After a pregnant pause Helena filled the silence. ‘Look, Anita, I don’t want to fight with you. I know I’ve lied to you and kidnapped you and that doesn’t do much to engender trust, but now is the time for the truth. You didn’t give me up when they were torturing you, so I can clearly still trust you, I now need to make you see that I’m trustworthy too.’
‘And how do you intend to do that?’ said Anita nonchalantly, reaching for the honey, ‘by casually dropping in a power play like, oh I don’t know…brass cylinders?’
Helena at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. ‘I’m sorry. I could have handled last night better, but you know me, I’m dreadful with people.’ She said it light-heartedly, looking for any way to defuse Anita’s hostility.
‘Oh in which case, carry on, do whatever you want, so long as you acknowledge your behaviour wasn’t ideal afterwards.’
‘Anita, I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly going as planned, so here, just read this,’ she said, sliding a beaten up leather bound notebook across the table. ‘When you have, maybe you’ll be willing to talk.’ Helena got up and made towards the farmhouse.
As she approached the back door, Alexander’s chocolaty voice pierced the tense silence. ‘To clarify,’ he said slowly, ‘do you consider us your prisoners or your guests?’ He dwelled on the word guests, drawing it out, the irony obvious.
Helena turned, ‘my guests, of course,’ she replied evenly. ‘Feel free to roam around as you please. You’ll have bedrooms in the main house tonight. The cells were a necessary measure to ensure you didn’t leave before we had a chance to talk.’
‘And if we decide we don’t want to stay?’ he hypothesised pointedly.
‘I can’t hold you here indefinitely. If you wish to leave then leave, but you will find no answers, no friends, no explanations waiting for you in Empire. Before you do anything rash, read the diary, I think you’ll find it quite enlightening.’
Helena retreated into the farmhouse and the others gradually dispersed, off to do whatever it was they had to do on a lazy autumn morning. ‘Walk?’ asked Alexander, squeezing Anita’s hand under the table. She nodded, they needed to talk away from the prying ears of all these people, and she didn’t want to let anyone see her read the diary, at least until she knew what exactly it was they were dealing with.
*****
They walked out of the farmyard, through an open gate and into the field beyond. It sloped gently at first and then steeply to a copse of trees that stood proudly at the top of the hill, leaves starting to turn shades of orange above. From there they had a good vantage point, overlooking the farm buildings; nobody could approach from that side without being in full view. They withdrew back past the treeline so as not to be easily observed and sank down side by side in the roots of the largest tree.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, looking back across the field. ‘I never saw this coming.’
Anita smirked, almost cruelly, her frustration at boiling point, ‘of course you didn’t, why would you? You didn’t even know I was trying to steal Austin’s brass cylinder for Helena until last night. I trained with Helena for years and the thought never crossed my mind that she would do something like this.’
Alexander nodded, reading her energy and keen to move on. ‘No point dwelling anyway I suppose,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, ‘shall we see what bait you’ve been presented with?’ She pulled out the diary and opened its battered cover to see a page full of spidery scrawl, no hint of who it belonged to or what story it had to tell, so Anita plunged straight in, reading aloud.
‘5th June, 1331.
So today is the day I become an ‘adventurer’, how exciting that sounds and yet, in reality, how terribly dull. The parents are shipping me off to the Wild Lands with them to trade and travel, which they see as one almighty good time, but I see as a waste of a perfectly good summer. I’m nineteen and have just graduated from school, FYI, I’m a Body (most definitely), and am writing a diary on the suggestion of my best friend, Evie, who is of the opinion that writing about the inevitable monotony might help me escape it, so, here goes nothing.
To give you some background, my name is Clarissa, my parents, Anton and Imogen are what I’d call enterprising academics, meaning they are academics who also have a penchant for making money through trade. Normally, when they venture into the Wild Lands they leave me behind in Empire, usually with my aunt, but now they’ve decided it high time I start to learn the family trade, hence my enforced attendance. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a part of me that’s quite looking forward to the Wild Lands. Wild Water sounds totally up my street, Wild Fire sounds crazy, Wild Air exhilarating, but even so, I’m sceptical about how much fun a trip with the parents is ever really going to be…especially when the delicious, newly single Jason will be kicking around Empire, free as a bird, all summer. No doubt dreadful Petunia will have her claws firmly into him by the time I get back and I’m not convinced any man is strong enough to extract those once they’re in.
Anyway, shouldn’t think about them. Evie keeps talking about the rugged Wild Land-dwelling super men she thinks I’m going to meet. Maybe she’s right and if that is the case, things will soon be looking up.’
Anita paused as the entry came to a close. ‘Clarissa was my mother’s name,’ she said matter of factly, ‘so I guess this is the start of Helena’s promise to tell me about my parents.’
Alexander nodded and gave her arm a squeeze; she turned back to the notebook in her hands.
‘23rd June, 1331.
So it turns out I’m dreadful at this whole keeping a diary thing. Suffice it to say I’m having an unexpectedly great time. The trading posts are nothing short of raucous. There are parties every night, debauchery galore (I’m abstaining just for the record - my parents are here too after all - a weird concept I’m still not totally used to), the gossip is beyond anything I’ve ever known, and we’ve picked up a few strays who are now travelling with us, who are nothing short of hilarious. The nights we’re not at a trading post, we throw up tents, build a camp fire and get drunk on the local beverage of choice - last night was some crazy kind of rum - needless to say I’m regretting it today.